


I Know You’ve Had Enough

by naom2



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt, Horror, Hurt, M/M, Murder-Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naom2/pseuds/naom2
Summary: This fic is very graphic and disturbing. Please look at the tags and do NOT keep reading if you think you can't handle it. I'm not responsible if you decide to ignore the warnings.Thank you to my beautiful angel of a friend who convinced me to post this when I was going to let it rot in my notes app because I'm:💅✨I N S E C U R E ✨💅This one's for you 💕
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	I Know You’ve Had Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linnhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linnhe/gifts).



> This fic is very graphic and disturbing. Please look at the tags and do NOT keep reading if you think you can't handle it. I'm not responsible if you decide to ignore the warnings. 
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful angel of a friend who convinced me to post this when I was going to let it rot in my notes app because I'm:
> 
> 💅✨I N S E C U R E ✨💅
> 
> This one's for you 💕

Taeyong unlocks the door to their apartment, grocery bag swinging alongside him. He’s finally back from wandering around their complex. He doesn’t go too far since everything is merely a stroll away. He’s full of triangle kimbap and gummies, but apparently, the calm wasn't meant to last today.

“What took you so long?” Johnny asks, back turned away as he takes a swig of his water bottle and spits into the sink. Even after brushing his teeth and using mouthwash, the taste of iron was readily apparent. He isn't sure when it started. His physician said it was nothing to worry about so he took his word for it.

“I was just eating at the ahjumma’s place, Johnny.” His accusing tone already makes him nervous, his extremities going tingly as he quietly shuts the door and locks it behind him, dropping the bags next to the sofa.

“Yeah?” He approaches him. He doesn’t look like he’s in any mood to play around. Johnny reaches over, tugging his shirt down to cover his exposed belly button. “All dressed up?”

"I- always dress like this, Johnny." It's true, he does. It isn't his fault he looks prettier than usual, according to what Johnny seems to think. He takes his vitamins.

_“Bullshit.”_ He raises his voice, making Taeyong flinch.

“Johnny, please—“ he pleads softly, not wanting to get the neighbor’s attention. He reaches for his hand but Johnny rips it away. Taeyong’s face drops slightly but he’s used to it. “People will hear.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” It’s another one of those days. “You went to go fuck around, didn’t you?”

Taeyong sighs, his voice trembling when Johnny inches closer. “When have I ever?”

“You tell me.” He accuses, backing him up until the back of his thighs hit the armrest of the couch. Taeyong says nothing even though he’s clearly expecting an answer, he’s bracing himself instead.

What did Taeyong do to deserve it? Johnny couldn’t say, but he practically pulls a muscle the way the anger shoots up his neck, making him dizzy. It’s almost as if he’s trying to start something. Staring up at him with those big fucking eyes without an answer for him. He asks for it.

Taeyong scrunches his eyes shut when Johnny’s hands fly up to his body. “What were you really doing?” He spits, shaking him, his vision goes white-hot with rage for what seems an eternity. The silence crackles in his eardrum. “Why won’t you speak?”

He can’t.

Johnny figures he needs to get the hell out, now. Before he does something he regrets, before he loses himself, although he’s already miles past that and he doesn’t even realize.

“You’re a fucking slut, you know that?” Johnny shoves him back violently over the armrest, and he falls limp on the couch. Johnny strides over to the counter to snatch his keys from the table, he doesn’t look back, leaving Taeyong with a nasty _get the fuck out, I don’t want to see you when I come back_ and slamming the door so hard that it shakes the floor beneath him.

He stumbles, catching himself on the railing and shaking whatever the fuck _that_ was out of his head and makes his way to the car, mashing the broken button on the alarm until it unlocks.

He doesn't know where he's going, anywhere seems better than here.

* * *

After hours of driving, the anger he has towards Taeyong seems to fade and as always he realizes he was wrong. He doesn’t know what made him lose it, to even come to the conclusion that Taeyong would ever be unfaithful, for fucks sake. He hits the gas, hoping Taeyong hasn’t left yet. Hoping he didn’t take his ugly words seriously and to apologize for the hundredth time. But why the fuck doesn’t Taeyong ever fight back? Why doesn’t he argue? He makes Johnny this way.

What was he supposed to believe?

The more he drives the more the fault seems to point to himself. He's being fucking insane, that much is clear to him now. He grips the wheel and his eyes land on blooming red scrapes on the backs of his hand and knuckles.

A loud honk finally makes him tear his eyes away when he realizes he’d been almost halfway into the opposite lane.

_The fuck is wrong with me?_

He’s about to pop a u-turn when there’s a sudden sick feeling that overcomes him, concentrating in his abdomen. The longer he drives, the less he can remember their interaction. He pulls off to the side of the road when his guts cramp up, heaving until he throws up. Johnny sits next to his vomit on the curb of the mostly empty street. Surprisingly, the view isn’t out of place. To everyone else, he would just look like a drunk coming out of the bar. The sky turns dark before he decides to head back, reciting apologies in his mind that never seem to be enough.

Johnny passes by his neighbor, an older lady who sits on her porch for hours smoking like a chimney. He feels her eyes on him as usual. He ignores it, fumbling with his keys until he unlocks the door, the deadbolt is visibly caved inside of the wood, splintering it outwards. He has to shove it with his entire body twice before it finally opens. 

His eyes adjust quickly to the darkness and he’s relieved to see Taeyong’s little tuft of chocolate hair waiting for him on the couch in front of the brightness of the television screen. He can’t even bring himself to look at him having humiliated himself yet again. He can’t find the words to say he’s sorry, to truly apologize to him for being so unfair just like every other time.

So, he doesn’t bother.

* * *

It’s 3 in the morning when he's woken up by soft footsteps. Johnny’s groggy as fuck, half asleep when he hears the door open. _I knew you would come around, Taeyong. I knew you wouldn’t leave me._

“John?”

He feels the bed dip slightly beside him and he grabs blindly, pulling Taeyong into his arms instantly and hovering over him. His heart pounds in his ears, looking down into his eyes, they almost look black in the darkness of the room. Taeyong speaks with his softest voice, his tone is either that of pity or it's as if he doesn’t want his tone to trigger Johnny again. Johnny can't pinpoint what it is. “You’re not angry with me?”

“God, no,” his eyes soften. How could he ask that? He buries his face in Taeyong’s neck, “I’m not angry,” his voice trembles. He’s the one who should be angry, being treated so unfairly by Johnny. He sniffles, throat burning with the need to cry. He presses almost all of his weight on him.

Taeyong shushes him. His hot hands cradling his head and fingers swirling through his hair to massage his scalp lightly. He’s strangely warm, as opposed to every other night when he would tease Johnny by sticking his cold fingers in Johnny’s armpits.

It’s nice though. He’s the only one who makes Johnny feel so small.

Taeyong reaches up to hold his face, planting a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth and wiping his tears. “You’ll stay with me forever won’t you?” He asks Johnny. “Always?”

He wants to say _no. I’m not good for you, Taeyong. You deserve someone better._ It would be the best for both of them. But he’s selfish, he wants Taeyong to be his and his only. “Yes, baby.” He pulls his mouth into a kiss. He tastes different. Thick and sweet.

Fuck, it feels like his tongue is everywhere at once. It’s slow and messy, _wet._ He needs him now. Johnny pushes Taeyong’s loose shirt up to sprinkle kisses up his chest, taking a nipple into his mouth to roll his tongue around the cute little bud. He trails his mouth all over his skin, paying special attention to his throat. Taeyong is so deliciously sensitive, whining sweetly with every touch.

Johnny runs his palms over the expanse of his tummy, memorizing his shape with his touches. There isn’t much, if any, light in Johnny’s room. The window faces a tall concrete fence, grey and unsightly. He never really minded the place, especially since it was a place with Taeyong. That’s the only thing that made it home. He wants to see him. He considers turning the lights on but those would only be wasted seconds without him in his arms.

The only thing that matters is that he can feel just how beautiful Taeyong is. He can’t make out jack shit but he can hear his soft breaths, moist against his skin. The fact that he can only see his shadow and the sparkles coming from his eyes does nothing to still his arousal. It’s getting so stuffy, the air getting thick around them. "Do you want to—"

_"Yes."_

Johnny pulls Taeyong’s shorts off and the boy lifts his hips for him to slip them off completely. Johnny hurriedly fumbles in the drawer, grabbing the lube. Their breaths mingle as Johnny clumsily tries to get out of his clothes but refusing to pull away from the sweetness of Taeyong's mouth. He barely gets his pajama bottoms down enough to get his cock out, sloppily smothering it in lube and finding the warmth of his boyfriend's hole right away.

He fucks into him slowly at first, already so soft and loose for him. “I love you, angel.” He moans, slipping out almost all the way to slam back inside, “fuck— you know I didn’t mean what I said, right?” Johnny slips his hands under his thighs, practically folding him in half. Taeyong gasps loudly when he slides his cock in, it feels like it’s even deeper this way.

“I know,” he whines as Johnny starts to slam into him brutally, “I know you didn’t mean it. It’s- _ah!_ S’my fault.” Taeyong sobs, scraping his nails on Johnny’s back to make him hiss as he starts to pound into him, fucking into him like it’s the last time. “All my fault.”

Johnny tires himself out quickly from using his hole so roughly, switching to long steady strokes.

He shushes him softly. _It isn’t your fault, baby. It’s never your fault. Your boyfriend is sick in the head,_ he thinks. He becomes tender just like that, intertwining his fingers with Taeyong’s to pin his arm next to his head. “I love you.”

Johnny’s thrusts get erratic, losing himself in the silky vice of Taeyong’s body. He couldn’t even guess how long they’ve been at it. The sounds turned so filthy as the lube gets fucked out of him, frothy from being stirred around with Johnny’s cock. He had missed Taeyong’s soft body so much. Johnny never touched him when he was angry, that’s the one thing he would never do. And lately, it had been just about every day. He didn’t want to poison the only thing they had left that made them both feel good.

Taeyong whimpers when Johnny’s hand wraps loosely around the side of his neck, relaxing when he begins kissing and biting the skin gently. Johnny’s heart pounds, there’s something exhilarating about tonight. The boy’s touches almost burn. “It’s gonna be okay, daddy.” Taeyong wraps his legs around Johnny’s ass, coaxing him even deeper as he floods his insides with come, his cock twitching as he milks himself with the soft clutch of his body. His body starts feeling weak, vision becoming painted with specks of white as Taeyong’s words fly right over his head.

“I’ll wait for you.”

* * *

Johnny wakes up and he feels weak. His skin hurts. He isn’t okay and he feels like the most rotten piece of trash in the world. He twists on the bed, a familiar burning feeling on the planes of his back. He reaches over to the other side of the bed only to find it empty, the sheets unmoved as if Taeyong had never been there. Maybe he finally had enough sense to leave him.

Johnny rolls off the bed, muscles stinging as the blanket tugs on his back, clinging onto the dried blood of his cuts before he rips it off, wincing slightly.

He holds his temples, the throbbing is practically audible in his eardrums as he tries to remember yesterday— trying to remember which parts were real.

Jesus, it feels like he was plowed into by a goddamned semi.

Johnny tosses back some Aleve and he’s off to the bathroom to hate what he sees in the mirror, to curse at the person he had become. It was a disgustingly routine thing for him. He looks horrible, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. It sure felt as if he hadn’t. He tugs on the skin around his sunken eyes until they become distracted by the scratches on his hands. Johnny stares until his brain struggles to remember what did that, but it’s no use.

When he looks back up into the mirror he catches something in the corner of his vision, it’s not even for a second but it startles him, causing him to smash his elbow on the door frame. _“Fuck.”_ He seethes, his blood pressure must be up the fucking wall now, he’s even seeing shit.

Johnny washes his face. He’s nauseous again, clutching the edges of the sink as his mouth produces an uncomfortable amount of drool. His stomach twists, heaving as his body tries to push anything out. The combined taste of bile along with the bitterness of his half-digested pills make him even more nauseous. The cycle goes on for something like half an hour. Johnny sits on the toilet with his head in his hands while his headache gets worse.

He finally walks out into the kitchen. An air of calmness flows through his body from seeing his boyfriend curled up on the couch. When he wakes up Johnny will make sure to cook him his favorite foods and feed him until he pops. He had been looking so frail lately, always tired. He would sleep in Johnny’s arms for hours at a time during the day. His waist was always slim, but these days Johnny felt as though he would break him if he held him the wrong way.

Johnny washes yesterday’s dishes as quietly as he can, not wanting to wake his sleeping boyfriend. He lazily scrubs the hardened rice out of the bowl, looking out at the annoyingly bright and cloudless day in the window to the front of him. He stares at nothing until his eyes unfocus.

They become drawn to something else.

He can’t tell who, or what it is at first. It’s hard to make out with the subtle reflection being interrupted by the brightness coming from outside. The more he stares at it he isn’t any closer to figuring out what it means but he had seen it before. He saw _him_ in his nightmares. The boy, pink-haired and ruthless in tormenting Johnny in his sleep. He never did get a good look at his face. He truly is losing his mind.

“Why?” Is all that comes out of Johnny’s mouth. It’s uncomfortably quiet when Johnny shuts the water off. The figure stays unmoving except for his hand, it seems to be pointing in the direction of the couch.

“What do you want?” And quiet, again. It doesn’t move an inch. Johnny feels a surge of rage creep up into his neck when it doesn’t answer him, smashing the plate in his hand against the side of the kitchen tiles. Johnny clenches his teeth, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He spits, eyes darting frantically until they fall on his hands, looking at thinly scabbed over scrapes on his wrists, bright pink and hardly healed.

He tears out the drawer noisily beneath him to grab the handle of their sharpest kitchen knife and whips his body around to be met with— nothing.

His head hesitantly turns to finally look where it has been pointing, at his boyfriend.

His eyes blur with tears, partly shielding his vision from the pale purple face laid limp in front of him on the couch. The wine-colored necklace of Johnny’s handprints is clear and crisp on the skin of his throat. He swears he can feel his hemorrhaged eyes staring directly into his. Johnny shakes his head, as if the view in front of his would fade away just like that. He smacks himself on the face with the handle of the knife, hyperventilating.

_Don’t even fucking pretend, Johnny. You know what you did,_ his brain screams at him.

He shudders. No. He’s still alive. He’s still here. Johnny’s eyes dart to the knife in his hand. Surely, Taeyong would stop him. He knows he still loves him.

Johnny catches a glimpse of the red and blue lights spilling through the shades. He’s running out of time. “You love me, right?” There’s no answer. “Right?!” He shrieks, voice cracking weakly when he realizes there will never be an answer coming from his sweet lips ever again. “Baby, please. _Please,_ just say it.”

_I didn’t mean to do it. I swear._

“Say it. Please,” Johnny whimpers, pleading over and over again for Taeyong to save him from himself. “Why don’t you stop me?” Johnny presses the handle towards the wall, he points it to his chest and leans into the blade. It stops short, his chest deflects the tip of the knife so he twists. The knife slides easily into the gap of his ribs. He sees the blood pooling under his shirt and he starts laughing in disbelief when it just doesn’t hurt enough. He deserves to go out with the worst pain in the world, like the fucking monster he is.

But he’s sobbing now as his brain flickers back to that night.

_"Fucking tell me."_

_Johnny watches perversely as Taeyong’s eyes widen when he begins to crush the life out of them with his own hands, fingers clamped over his throat all the way around and thumbs squeezed tight over his larynx._

_"Why don’t you speak?"_

_Taeyong claws at Johnny’s hands out of reflex, tearing his skin and drawing blood until he realizes: it’s finally happening. It’s what was bound to happen all along. It’s okay if it’s Johnny._

_He doesn’t fight anymore._

_His mind is already okay with giving up but his body keeps trying to desperately gulp for air. So fucking annoying._

_He can hear his own pulse muffled in his ears and nothing else. It’s almost calming. He holds Johnny’s wrists softly, trailing his fingers across his forearms. He wants to remember his warm body until they meet again. His broad chest that made him feel safe. Even if he was the one who caused him pain in the first place._

_Searing pain rips through his throat and lungs as his chest unsuccessfully tries heaving for air, adam’s apple twitching as his body tries its best to swallow down any sort of oxygen. Nothing makes it out or in past Johnny’s clutch around his throat except his choked off, sad attempts for life._

_His hands stop working, he tries to caress Johnny’s beautiful face but his muscles fail him, his arms and legs going completely limp. The only thing holding him up are Johnny’s hands around his neck. He was always astounded by his strength. Especially now. His legs are trembling, his bladder apparently decides to give up on him too because he’s pissing all over the floor._

_Fuck, how embarrassing. He wished he had the strength to laugh. He stares into Johnny’s stunning honey eyes until his vision starts turning white._

_It only hurts for a little bit. His lips start tingling, going completely numb as the pain starts fading out. Johnny isn’t a bad person. The real Johnny is still in there, the Johnny who loves him. He knows it isn’t his fault that things ended up this way._

_Taeyong made him this way._

_At least he can leave happily for now. He’s so thankful that Johnny’s handsome face is the last he’ll see until then. He just hopes Johnny won’t still be angry with him after this ends._

_It doesn’t hurt anymore._

_Johnny tightens his grip and his throat gives out under his hands even more. The whites of Taeyong’s eyes start flooding with splotches of blood, rolling back into his skull when Johnny presses harder, hard enough to feel something snap under his skin. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but Johnny’s finally met with the last of Taeyong’s weak involuntary twitches._

_Johnny shoves him into the couch. Not even a second after his hands finally unwrench themselves from Taeyong’s crushed neck does he realize what he’s done._

Johnny gags, his stomach twists ferociously. Taeyong is no longer beautiful. It frightens him— makes him sick. Purple and blue used to be a good look on him.

Not like this.

How did it get this bad? How did Johnny’s brain trick him for this long into thinking he had done nothing wrong? Johnny watches his own blood spill on the cream-colored carpet.

He was such a sweet boy, so he doesn’t know why he’s the source of all his nightmares. He suddenly forgets what made him hurt Taeyong so bad, and so often. He loved him to bits.

Loved him to death.

All of those instances he had to force himself to stop from killing him. The number of times he left Taeyong sprawled on the bed, bloody and broken. Johnny could swear he was just a few breaths away from dying. He would stay by his side for hours, sobbing over his body until he came to, promising he didn’t know what came over him. It all seemed so easy to prevent when he thinks about it now.

If he could take it all back, he would. Isn't that just what everyone says though?

The most fucked up part of it was that all of those times ended up with Taeyong comforting him. Why was it him holding Johnny and assuring him that everything would be okay? He would let Johnny cry in his lap for an eternity, massaging his scalp and still calling him his _big sweet boy_ until he was well enough to undoubtedly go back to his vicious self within weeks.

The handful of days between those, well they were wonderful. Johnny was made of pure love and gentle touches, praising Taeyong and making him forget, making them both forget. Taeyong felt like the prettiest boy in the world when he held him tight, and Johnny was so clingy and sweet. He would never promise him that he wouldn’t do it again, though. That would be a lie and they both knew it.

Even as Taeyong’s body healed, clearly his head hadn’t, Johnny figured. He was broken enough to stay with him. But this time he did it. He’s the only one to blame for sabotaging his and Taeyong’s chances to be happy together. He’d like to think he finally took him far away from all the pain he would’ve had to continue enduring had he stayed with Johnny any longer.

When he closes his eyes, he can see the blur of Taeyong. He’s watching him. Those big puppy eyes of his full of resentment. “I’m so sorry.” Johnny is so fucking sick. “Please don’t look at me like that.” He wished he could say that he was finally safe. Because safe is anywhere far away from Johnny. And he wished he could blame the demons in his head, but even he knew that was a fucking cop-out.

He always saw them getting married, living full lives until they would be buried together. Who’s going to do that now? Johnny never met Taeyong’s family, but the guilt floods into his body. The horror they’re going to feel for the rest of their lives knowing that the one who was supposed love and protect him was the same monster who killed him so ruthlessly.

The blade in his chest doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as knowing that he killed the person who loved him the most. Even behind the bruises, the fractured bones. The hurt. He never saw Johnny as anything else but an angel. His protector. Could that have ever been the case, when it was Johnny himself who caused all of his pain?

Nobody loved Johnny like Taeyong.

That is, nobody loved Johnny except for Taeyong and

Johnny never deserved him. “I’m- I’m so fucking sorry, angel.” He coughs out, shoving the blade in further until his hand slips up, the knife seems to think he’s a piece of shit too, slicing his palm open for good measure. His lungs burn white-hot before he collapses. The pounding on the door fades out into the crackle of white noise before he lets his body fall to the floor. The pain turns to numbness and he stares blankly at the door, waiting for the police to break it open. He’s not afraid, because he’s already as good as dead.

His eyes stay glued to the door with his rapidly dimming vision until the view is blocked by suede black boots. Taeyong’s favorite boots.

He feels someone grab onto him, and whether it’s real or imagined, it doesn’t matter in the least because it’s already too late. He remembers the words he whispered to him that last night they made love in his garbage muddled brain.

_I'll wait for you._

He’d be waiting long then, because Johnny knows he won’t see such a sweet, pure thing like Taeyong wherever he ends up.

He can only pray it’s hell that waits for him on the other side.

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all thought a bitch wrote some Johnyong just to kill them both?
> 
> Correct.
> 
> Or is it? 👁👅👁


End file.
